


Stakes & Thrills

by Sarai



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23923069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarai/pseuds/Sarai
Summary: Each time is the last time, Jesper promises when he comes home from another gambling hall. It won't happen again... until it does.Wylan will always forgive Jesper, but when it becomes clear forgiveness isn't helping, Wylan hatches a plot to bring some controlled risk into their life together.
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	Stakes & Thrills

“It was just one game,” Jesper said, the first time—not the first time it happened, but the first time Wylan found out.  
  
“It’s never just one game,” Wylan said.

But he didn’t make a fuss and they moved on.

They moved on to the time he came home bleeding and laughing after a brawl. To the time he got into debt again and had to ask Wylan for a loan—“It’s not a loan,” Wylan said, and they didn’t speak more about the matter. Not even after Jesper needed the drink to bring himself home and face Wylan again. Not even when Jesper realized these were not slip-ups, not isolated incidents, that his time with Wylan was just filler.  
  
He hated it. He lived for the thrill of the tables, loved it and hated himself, and sometimes he wished he could go back to that life but keep Wylan, see him now and again… and he hated himself for even thinking that.  
  
One night, Jesper scrabbled desperately for an excuse. He wasn’t drunk but he had been drinking. He wasn’t sure what day it was, how long he had been gone, how long since he last slept or bathed. He stood in the foyer of the mansion on Geldstraat, facing Wylan who looked like an old man in his dressing gown and slippers.

It was cold. Jesper had lost his coat somewhere and his bony shoulders bunched like he could hide from the cold or this moment.  
  
“I, um…”  
  
He remembered times he had come home to a soft, loving, forgiving Wylan, but he had worn down that Wylan.   
  
Weary, Wylan said, “Just come to bed, Jesper.”  
  
Jesper nodded.  
  
He was wearing out the good in Wylan.  
  
No—not him. It was the business, the empire, it was… it was everything… but Jesper sure wasn’t helping. Did he even need to stay? Marya was so much better now. She could read to him…  
  
Jesper cried to himself until he fell asleep.  
  


* * *

  
  
This couldn’t go on.  
  
Last night, as Wylan listened, frozen, to Jesper’s soft weeping, he had known this couldn’t go on. Jesper loved Wylan, of that Wylan had no doubt. And Wylan loved Jesper. But their life together was making Jesper sick. Something had to change.  
  
He started the next morning, first thing. Before the sun was even up, Wylan slipped out of bed, pausing to press a gentle kiss to Jesper’s shoulder. Jesper didn’t wake. If he was fully honest, Wylan didn’t much care about silk sheets, but he liked the look of Jesper nestled beneath them… usually. This morning, even in his sleep, Jesper looked miserable.  
  
Wylan left him sleeping.  
  
They had been together almost a year and known each other several months longer. Wylan knew what Jesper liked. Swiftly as he could manage—he didn’t want Jesper waking up alone—he procured a few necessary items. Waffles would have been his first choice, but those were really best fresh. Instead, Wylan tried the bakery near the Exchange.  
  
When he returned to the mansion, Wylan stopped by the kitchen to grab two plates. Then he thought better of it. This was for Jesper. So he grabbed a serving platter instead and laid out a ridiculous amount of pastries, poured the flask of coffee into two mugs, and carried the lot up to the bedroom. Yesterday had been a horrible one for Jesper and more than anything, Wylan wanted him to start off this day knowing it would be better.

Just one good day, that was all Jesper needed. One good day to believe he could have another. So they would do one thing at a time. They would have a nice breakfast. Then they would do the next thing.  
  
“Jes.”  
  
Wylan shook him gently.  
  
“Jes, wake up.”  
  
Jesper batted Wylan’s hand away, groaned, and curled up tighter.  
  
Wylan sat on the edge of the bed and kissed Jesper’s cheek.  
  
“Jesper,” he said.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Please wake up, love.”  
  
“Don’ wanna.”  
  
“Okay,” Wylan said, reluctant. He left the bed. “I guess I’ll have to eat these oliebollen myself,” he said, popping one ball of fried dough into his mouth. “Mmm, that’s so good. Still warm, too! Are you sure you won’t have any?” he asked, looking back at Jesper.  
  
Jesper had opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow to verify Wylan’s claim of treats. Then he nodded.  
  
Wylan carried the platter to the bed and placed it between them. Jesper sat up and reached for a pastry.  
  
They ate quietly for a while, sipping coffee between bites. Wylan tried not to be obvious that he was watching Jesper, but… he was watching, waiting to see if Jesper would be okay. When Jesper looked at him and smiled, Wylan felt himself light up. It was a hesitant smile, but until he saw it, Wylan hadn’t been sure, not of anything.  
  
“Can we talk?” Wylan asked.  
  
Jesper popped an oliebol in his mouth. “Can’t. Mouf full.”  
  
“Then listen. Yesterday—things are—I know you’re not happy.” He saw the protest building behind Jesper’s eyes, but Jesper would protest, wouldn’t he? Because he couldn’t just look a problem in the eyes. It wasn’t his way. “You’re not, my love. What if we could find a way to bring a little more excitement into our lives?”  
  
Jesper raised his eyebrows. It was enough to make Wylan blush, but Jesper went on anyway, sliding his fingers along Wylan’s thigh over his trousers as he said, “If that’s what you want…”  
  
Wylan gave Jesper’s hand a little swat. “That’s not what I meant!” he objected. “This is serious!”  
  
“Does it have to be, though?”  
  
Yes, it did, because Wylan was afraid he would lose Jesper, and he was afraid of what might happen to Jesper after he left Wylan.  
  
“What about gambling?” Wylan suggested.  
  
Giving his head a tilt, Jesper asked, “You do know you’re meant to be cross, don’t you?”  
  
“I don’t like to be cross,” Wylan said, “and I don’t like you to be hurt.” He hadn’t even been cross last night. At least… not when he saw Jesper. He had been, before, cross with Jesper for doing this again, cross with him for being weak, until he had seen Jesper and remembered that he wasn’t weak. He was struggling.  
  
Jesper shrugged and reached for the last bit of almond liqueur cake. Somehow despite being soaked in alcohol, that seemed appropriate for morning consumption.  
  
“What if I make you a bet?” Wylan asked. “I bet you can’t throw your socks into the hamper from here.”  
  
Jesper raised his eyebrows. “You bet?”  
  
Something about the way Jesper looked at him made Wylan blush, but he raised his chin and stared back.  
  
“You bet what?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You have to bet something, that’s how betting works.”  
  
Wylan had known that, but hadn’t thought of what to offer.  
  
Jesper snatched his socks from the floor, rolled them into a ball, and sank them neatly into the hamper. Then he announced the forfeit would be a kiss. So Wylan kissed him.  
  


* * *

  
  
From that day on, every day with Wylan held the soft hum of a potential gamble. Jesper wasn’t certain that meant he was getting better or maybe he was just getting more addicted to Wylan, and he wasn’t certain he cared. Nothing could be wrong with something that made him genuinely happy—not lost, just happy. It made the colors brighter. Everything Jesper wanted was twined together: Wylan, fun, stakes. The stakes were low, but that was okay. He still took a thrill from them, albeit a smaller one.  
  
“I bet I can get to the top of the stairs first.”  
  
“I bet you can’t make something explode in purple smoke.”  
  
“I bet I can hold my breath longer than you can.”  
  
It didn’t need to be anything major. It wasn’t anything major, because the point was rarely the chase. The point was the forfeit. Small things. Trinkets. A kiss, a song, a pretty stone by the end of the day (though Jesper meant a stone _from the garden_ , not for Wylan to buy him a bracelet). One day, when the time was right—how long did he have to wait until the time was right?—Jesper would ask for _whatever’s in your pockets_. And Wylan would only have his hands in his pockets, so Jesper would ask for his hand. When the time was right to ask Wylan to marry him.  
  
For today, Jesper grinned. It was the start to the day and he was already owed a forfeit.  
  
“This one,” Jesper announced, holding up one of his shirts.  
  
“That one?”  
  
He nodded. “That’s the forfeit. Wear my shirt today. All day.”  
  
Wylan’s eyes widened. “Jesper,” he said, faintly appalled, “that is _damask_.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I can’t. It’s… it’s _burgundy._ It’ll clash with my hair.”  
  
Jesper grinned wickedly. “We bet and you lost, so you have to do it. Anyway, you always say it looks nice.”  
  
“On you,” Wylan retorted, grabbing the shirt, but for all his grumbling, he put it on anyway. He had lost the bet and hadn’t a choice. In Jesper’s opinion, Wylan looked beautiful. Maybe because he was Wylan. Maybe because he was Wylan wearing Jesper’s shirt with its too-long sleeves and the loose third button Jesper had picked at too much.  
  
It was the best day they had spent at the Exchange in months.  
  
Possibly ever.  
  
Jesper had to bite back laughter every time someone stepped into the office and paused, taking in the sight of Very Proper Mercher Wylan Van Eck dressed like he had just rolled up out of the Barrel. Wylan of course maintained perfect composure. That only made it funnier for Jesper.  
  
After the third person had visited the office, when they were once more alone, Jesper laughed so hard he had to sit down.  
  
Wylan wadded up a bit of paper and tossed it at Jesper.  
  
“It’s not funny,” he said.  
  
“Don’t lose, then,” Jesper retorted. Like this was his fault! “Anyway, I like how you look.”  
  
Wylan grumbled, “You always like how I look.”  
  
“That is a weird thing to complain about.”  
  
Wylan just huffed. He leaned back in his chair and tossed his feet up on the desk, something he wouldn’t do if there were any chance of someone else dropping by. Jesper took the opportunity to hop up on the desk. He regarded Wylan for a moment. He truly had grown into his role over the past year, no longer fidgeting any time he had to be in his office here or at home. His office now, not his father’s. They had made enough deals, done enough with the business together, that the pair were accepted as merchants. Maybe not accepted by merchants, not socially right, but who needed that when they had pirates and gangsters dropping by unexpected?  
  
And, well… Wylan, personally, had taken well to it. He had stopped hiding himself. Jesper liked this Wylan, the one who didn’t need to be cajoled and prodded into showing his face.  
  
“You do look gorgeous in that shirt, you know,” he said. Technically, yes, it did clash with his hair. It clashed… in a nice way? Was that a thing?  
  
Wylan rolled his eyes. He reached into his desk drawer and retrieved an apple.  
  
With a huge grin, Jesper said, “The things I would do to you…”  
  
“Well, you can’t,” Wylan shot back. “I lost a bet. I have to wear the shirt all day.” He offered the apple to Jesper. When Jesper shook his head, Wylan bit into the fruit. The juice glistened on his lips. That alone was enough for a suggestive comment—not that Jesper needed the help!  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about removing the shirt?”  
  
Wylan froze, staring at Jesper for a long, long moment. Then he gulped down a mouthful of apple and murmured, “I have never been happier to lose a bet.”


End file.
